


I'd Always Come for You

by victoriousscarf



Series: Beware of Heroes [3]
Category: Dune - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:30:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2257596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet moment after the ice and after the rescue</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Always Come for You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuTBC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuTBC/gifts).



> The first snippet of the sprawling Tolkien/Dune crossover thing. 
> 
> The Silmarillion is roughly equivalent to the Butlerian Jihad out of Frank Herbert’s Dune books. For none Dune readers: Silmarillion AU with spaceships and war against the machines. 
> 
> (Also I hope this is the right LuTBC to gift this to? The icon looks right)

Maedhros dropped more wood on the fire, causing the flames to flare up and catch the dark light in Fingon’s eyes.

“What are you doing?” Fingon asked, head tilted to one side and his brows furrowed. His hair was short now, because it was easier, and there was no flickers of gold in it. Maedhros felt like he was looking into a void. He wanted to comment on the darkness of Fingon's hair, but too much had happened since there had been gold in it, so he sat down instead.

“I just don’t want it to get too cold,” he said, not meeting Fingon’s eyes.

There was a long moment of silence. They hadn’t been alone together for more than a few moments since, well, since before the ice, since before Maedhros had left Fingon behind because his father had demanded it of him.

They had seen each other since then, of course, when Fingon risked everything to come and save him, flashy and reckless and so stupid it made Maedhros’ chest ache to think about it. But he had been delirious, recovering for weeks. Fingon had only been there the first few days, when Maedhros had been unable to stay awake or focus or remember much of anything. But he remembered the feel of Fingon’s hands, and the sound of him reading by his bedside, desperation tucked into the back of his voice.

He thought he remembered Fingon speaking one day. “I can’t leave him. I’m staying here.”

“There’s still a war going on. You’re needed back in the fight. You ship out tomorrow,” another deep voice had said and even though he couldn’t open his eyes to see Fingon’s face, Maedhros could imagine the hard set of his jaw.

After that Fingon disappeared and Maedhros slowly recovered, taking longer to figure out how to pilot again, how to hold a gun or knife, how not to exhaust himself or strain his arm so he was useless the next day. It was months before he was cleared for any sort of service again, and by the time he reached Fingon again they were caught up in a flurry of attacks and raids and there had only been time for a few looks over briefing tables.

Until now. When they had barely escaped the battlefield alive, Fingon piloting the small ship and Maedhros clinging with one hand to the back of the pilots chair, panic blocking his throat.

“We’ll fix the ship tomorrow,” he said, not looking at Fingon still as he poked the fire with a long stick. “And we’ll make it back to headquarters in a week.”

He finally looked up when he was greeted with silence again. Fingon was never quiet this long.

“What is it?” he managed past his dry mouth.

Fingon’s eyes finally flickered down and he shrugged out of the heavy padded jacket he wore, since they had lost their uniforms. “It’s too hot,” he said, looking away and Maedhros froze.

They hadn’t talked about it.

“It is?” he asked weakly.

Fingon didn’t look back at him, head turned to the side in the cave they found, the ship outside the entrance. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. “You don’t want me to feel cold in case I remember, right? Well, it’s the opposite. I always feel hot now, because nothing is as cold as that place was. And after a year, you just sort of get used to it. The cold and the dark and—” He cut off abruptly and Maedhros couldn’t speak. “Well, you got used to it or you went mad. But everything’s too bright and too hot now.”

“I’m sorry,” Maedhros managed and the sheer inadequacy of the statement made his chest ache. “I’m so—”

“But you’re cold,” Fingon said, rolling his shoulders. “It’s fine. I’m used to it by now.”

“I didn’t want to leave you,” Maedhros blurted and Fingon turned to stare at him. “I never wanted to abandon you all there it was—” If he kept going he would probably cry so he stopped.

“But you did,” Fingon said and it wasn’t unkindly which only made it worse.

“But you came and saved me anyway,” Maedhros said.

Fingon laughed but it didn’t sound amused. “Of course I did,” he said. “I’d always come for you.”

And Maedhros’ fingers ached, like they always did when he stared at Fingon too long. When he wanted to reach out and pull him closer and kiss him until they couldn’t breathe or think. Even with his hair shorter, and with lines around his eyes that didn’t use to be there, and the sharp edge of his smile now and the way he looked far away to something Maedhros couldn’t see, he wanted nothing more than to fall into him.

They let the fire crackle between them, looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes and letting the silence stretch.

“I missed you,” Maedhros said faintly, finally.

“I did too,” Fingon admitted. “When I let myself. I tried not to because you weren’t there and anything—anything beyond the necessary was a waste of energy and resources and I couldn’t. But at night, when I was so exhausted I couldn’t sleep I’d let myself miss you.”

Maedhros buried his hands in his hair, red and pulled back into braids because he still couldn’t make himself cut it, to lose that link with the past. “I should have come back for you.”

“You couldn’t have,” Fingon said, matter of fact.

“I should have,” Maedhros insisted. “I should never have left you to begin with.”

He finally allowed himself to look up and meet Fingon’s eyes.

“Go to sleep,” Fingon said finally, eyes dark. “I’ll take the first watch.”

Maedhros opened his mouth to protest but only nodded, laying down and rolling on his side. It took him a long time to fall asleep, even with the fire against his back, because he could also feel the weight of Fingon’s gaze. 

**Author's Note:**

> 2/10/14 Editing a line to bring into canon with later ideas/developments about Fingon's hair (Fingon's hair is super important to this fic I'm not gonna lie)


End file.
